Eighteen. It’s so young.
“Are you sure, Alejandro?”
I watch his arm tighten around Mattie, his eyes moving to slits. “You really have to ask that?”
No. I don’t. My brother has loved Mattie forever. I should know. I’ve been kicking him out of the house at eleven o’clock for four years. Until they went to LSU.
This was bound to happen.
My gaze moves to my little sister-in-law. As usual, she looks nervous—and embarrassed—but if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen her so happy. Her fair skin glows. Just like Millie’s.
Abuela is so going to call it in two seconds.
“Have you told Harry?” Millie asks her sister.
Alex blows out a breath, and Mattie winces. “Not yet.”
One look at my brother and I know telling me was the lesser of two evils. He and Harry have always been tight, but Harry has vowed repeatedly he’d beat Alex bloody if he knocked up his sister.
I don’t think he was joking.
But Harry’s not in from Centenary yet. His season just ended a couple of weeks ago. The Gents finished up 11-4-5 with four shutouts. Four shutouts that happened while Harry was tending goal. Yeah, he’s had a good first semester. A great one, considering he is bringing a girl home for the holiday.
Maybe that will help Alex’s cause. If Harry’s in love, he might be able to forgive Alex. Or at least let him live. We’ll find out in a couple of hours.
“So, can I come work with you?” Alex asks, his uncertain look returning. “In May?”
Like I’d say no. Like I even could. The name on the sign saysValencia and Sons.I glance at Millie, and just one glimpse lets me know what she’s thinking.
He wants your support.Her eyes tell me.He wants your blessing.
I lock eyes with her, giving her the smile that she owns a controlling share of. She’s right. Alex doesn’t need me to bust his balls. Papi and Harry are going to take care of that.
“I can’t wait,” I tell my brother. A wave of relief passes over both him and Mattie, and I feel a prick of guilt for taking so long. I get to my feet and hold my hand out to Alex. His eyes widen in surprise, and he stands too. The handshake becomes a hug, and then I turn to Mattie, clasp her hand, and tug her out of the nook. She springs to her feet and into my arms, tears glinting in her eyes.
“I get to have you as my sister twice over.”
The back door bangs open and the sound of males—human and canine—echo through the house. Clarence and his one-year-old sidekick Danté lead the charge, tearing into the kitchen and lapping simultaneously at the giant water bowl next to the fridge.
Danté is what Millie calls a foster failure. His first owner surrendered him at Millie’s clinic when he couldn’t pay to treat the pup’s Parvo. Knowing the illness would be deadly if left untreated, Millie took him in and covered his bills. The plan was to get him well and then help him find his forever home.
Yeah, that plan lasted about a week. And then our boys all fell in love with the Labrador-Springer-mystery mix.
Okay, I did too.
And while Clarence merely tolerated him at first, within a few weeks, they were inseparable, wrestling or chasing after each other when awake and lying right beside each other while they slept.
Nothing has changed—except Danté has nearly quadrupled in size.
Emmett comes in on their heels, sees the four of us, and stops with a suspicious frown. “What’s going on?”
Mattie turns away to dab her eyes, and Millie steps forward. “Not much. Where are the boys?”
At her question, the back-door slams shut. “Here, Mama!” Mateo shouts. He runs in, ahead of his brother. Mateo is the loudest. And he always has to be first. It’s been that way since they were born. Marco is our observer. Our introvert. So much like his Aunt Mattie. But it’s their twelve-year-old Uncle Emmett both our boys worship. If he is home, they’re on him like a two-headed shadow.
Most of the time, Emmett’s really good about it. Not always, but then again, he’s just twelve. The kid hates it when Marco and Mateo wake him up on the rare Saturday or Sunday morning when he doesn’t have a soccer game and he can sleep in. He also hates it when they go into his room when he’s not home.
Emmett was nine by the time they were born, and out of the three of Millie’s sibs, I think he was the happiest about their arrival. They wiped away his baby-of-the-family status. Doubly so. And I think he’s always been grateful.
